


Golden Delicious

by julien (julie)



Series: Golden Delicious [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Episode: s01e16 The Blue Line, First Love, High School, M/M, first case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-07
Updated: 1999-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Someone is stealing the Golden Delicious apples which have been bought for the benefit of the Inuvik school children. Thirteen-year-old Benton pursues his first case – and is deliciously shocked to be pursued by his first love.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Mark Smithbauer
Series: Golden Delicious [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649182
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Golden Delicious

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Inspired by episode 116 _The Blue Line_. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Benton is only thirteen years old, and I assume Mark is much the same. They kiss and have sex, but are then parted.
> 
> **First published:** 7 February 1999 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup 8.

# Golden Delicious 

♦

Benton Fraser was the apple monitor for the Inuvik public school’s one class, a responsibility that he took very seriously. During these dark winter months, the school helped contribute to the students’ nutritional needs by providing them with one apple each on every school day. Benton had had the task of counting the students and the days, and multiplying them to reach the number of apples required (all of which he’d done in his head, in less time than it took to describe the process, even though he was only thirteen years old) and then their teacher, Miss Ellis, had ordered the fruit and paid for it out of her own salary.

The apples were Golden Delicious, and they sat in the front right corner of the classroom in two large wicker baskets (at least, those apples that weren’t in storage), festooned with autumnal decorations… The sight was quite magnificent.

Except that something on this Monday morning appeared very wrong.

Having arrived his usual punctual fifteen minutes before class began, Benton walked down to investigate the situation. To his horror, he realized that several apples were missing. There was no obvious trace evidence, such as footprints or discarded cores, but someone must have taken more than their fair share of the class’s treasure.

After staring for a few disbelieving moments at the depleted store of apples, Benton tugged his sweater down (even though he knew it was quite long enough to hide his body’s morning enthusiasm, having carefully examined his image in the mirror a number of times) and headed for Miss Ellis’s office.

She was sitting there preparing for class, making a few notes in today’s textbook, and looking somewhat distracted.

Benton cleared his throat, and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am.’

‘Yes, Benton?’

‘Ma’am, I wondered if you’d happened to notice that several apples are missing from the baskets this morning…’

She glanced in that direction, able to see the whole classroom from the front and side windows of the office. ‘Well, no, I hadn’t.’

‘Perhaps you’d care to inspect them with me?’

The briefest pause before Miss Ellis said, ‘All right.’ She took a moment to gather together an armful of books and assignments, before accompanying Benton to the front of the room. Together they peered at the beautiful mounds of Golden Delicious. ‘Are you sure there’s some missing?’ she eventually asked.

‘I’d estimate there are twenty-three missing, ma’am. I could do a complete stocktake, if you like.’

‘No, no; I don’t think that will be necessary, Benton.’ Miss Ellis let out a sigh. ‘I’ll ask class this morning if anyone knows what’s happened.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Benton went to his desk, sat down, and took out his completed homework; then he waited patiently.

The other children and teenagers were beginning to arrive now, with only minutes to go before the start of the first lesson. Always one of the last to show up, Mark Smithbauer (Benton’s best friend) slid into the seat next to Benton just as Miss Ellis rang the bell. ‘Hey, Ben,’ Mark leaned close to murmur; so close, in fact, that Benton could feel the icy cold radiating off him.

Benton smiled a welcome for his friend, and class began.

♦

When Miss Ellis asked whether anyone knew about the apples, Benton surreptitiously watched his prime suspects; but either they had become far more skilled at dissembling lately, or the guilty party wasn’t a class member.

‘Somebody stole some apples?’ Mark whispered to him in a scandalized voice.

‘I believe so,’ Benton quietly replied. ‘It’s a shock, I know, but there are twenty-three missing.’

‘Oh no!’ Mark clutched at his chest, and briefly sketched a charade of a heart attack. ‘Ben… Oh, Ben, what’s the world coming to, eh?’ He ended up slumped against Benton, which was kind of nice; Benton hadn’t had anyone before who touched him so often, so casually, so charmingly.

Benton loftily arched his brow. ‘Scoff if you like, however it’s –’

He was interrupted by the sharp rap of Miss Ellis’s knuckles against the blackboard. ‘Benton and Mark, I’ve warned you before: I’ll split you two up if you don’t behave…’

Which was the worst punishment she could threaten them with, and she knew it. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ they chorused; Benton was feeling slightly chagrined, though he knew Mark was nothing more than obedient because he had to be. Benton’s grandmother disapproved of Mark, and that was mainly due to moments like this. As for Benton himself, he wouldn’t give up Mark’s friendship if he were offered the whole world in return.

♦

Of all the mortifying things about puberty, the worst was the furious erections that just wouldn’t go away no matter what. Benton masturbated in moderation (no more and no less than three times each week, on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights) but even that seemed to have no effect on the problem. He’d barely even have finished, and his phallus would be insistently hungry again. Apart from the guilty joy the act brought him, it was barely worth it – at least not from the point of view of gaining relief.

Oddly enough, Benton remained fully erect even when he was outside in the winter’s harsh cold. He’d have thought the temperature would have a sobering effect on him, but if anything the cold seemed to freeze him even more solid… It was beginning to make playing hockey a little uncomfortable. Still, Benton found he had more energy these days than he quite knew what to do with, so the sport was a very useful outlet.

Outlet? Hockey, not wanting to dissemble, was his and Mark’s religion. Every afternoon once school was over, they’d head for the frozen pond behind Mr. Smithbauer’s barn, along with whichever of the other kids wanted to come along, and they’d play, half exuberant and half deadly serious. Mark had a genuine talent for the game; and Benton (quite frankly) worshipped him, while putting his heart and soul into at least being second best.

These days the dark drew in early, but Mark would always want to keep playing, so he’d bring his Dad’s tractor out from the barn, and they’d play in the light from the headlamps. Today, however, Benton had something other than hockey on his mind. As Mark skated towards the barn and the tractor, Benton headed him off. ‘Mark, let’s just go home, have supper, and get our homework done.’

‘What?!’ Mark frowned at him. ‘Your grandmother giving you a hard time, eh?’

‘Not particularly. I thought maybe you and I could stake out the school tonight, and catch the thief.’

‘The thief… What thief?’

The other kids were waiting by the snow-bank, sticks in hand, willing to keep playing. How could Benton offer Mark anything worth more to him than a game of hockey…? He tried anyway. ‘The apple thief, Mark. You could tell your folks you’re staying with me for the night, I could tell mine I’m staying with you – and we can sleep over at the school, and catch the thief red-handed.’ And Benton tried a bright smile, even though he was as serious about this as Mark was about hockey. ‘Wouldn’t that be fun?’

Mark was staring at him, his expression kind of odd, as if he were measuring Benton. ‘I guess.’ He thought about it some more. ‘Yeah, actually – why not?’ Then Mark called to the others, ‘Hey, game’s over. We’ll make up for it tomorrow, eh?’

As the kids began slipping away into the dusk, Benton said, ‘Thank you, Mark. Thank you very kindly.’

♦

The two boys set up their sleeping bags and stuff in the teacher’s office, where they would be able to remain safely hidden while keeping an eye on things. Benton knelt up against the desk, keeping his head low, and peered through the binoculars his father had given him last Christmas. Nothing stirred.

Mark, meanwhile, had sprawled back on his sleeping bag, with his hands tucked under his head. ‘Hey, Ben, I’m hungry. Why don’t I go get us some apples…?’

Benton turned to stare down at his friend, a little shocked even though he belatedly realized he was being teased. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ But the fond tone was evident now, and Mark couldn’t help but start chuckling. ‘You should see your face, eh? Anyone would think I wanted to steal the crown jewels or something…’ Mark sat up to rummage through his pack. ‘It’s OK, I brought some sandwiches.’

‘Great.’ Setting the binoculars in place on Miss Ellis’s desk, Benton sat down next to his friend, and they munched through a rough-hewn cheese and chutney sandwich each, even though they’d both had supper. Benton had also brought food; though, due to his grandmother’s frugality and poor cooking skills, the Frasers’ larder wasn’t half as bounteous as the Smithbauers’.

‘Do you want another?’

‘Perhaps we should save the rest for breakfast.’

‘At least for a midnight snack,’ Mark agreed. He settled back again, his athlete’s body stretched out along the sleeping bag. Mark was a couple of inches taller than Benton, and somewhat more muscular; and Benton thought he was handsome, too. Of course, Mark always said Benton was the pretty one of the pair, but to see Mark now, surely no one would think so…

Benton got up on his knees again so that he could watch the baskets of apples. Of course they hadn’t turned any lights on, but Benton’s night vision was sharp. Similarly, to avoid alerting anyone of their presence, and so as not to run up the gas bill, Benton had left the heater on stand-by; but with the office door closed, and the two of them generating heat in this small room, they should be comfortable enough.

‘Stake-out, eh?’ Mark commented after a while. ‘I knew it – you want to be a Mountie like your old man.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Benton retorted.

‘Yeah, you do. I don’t know why you love the guy so much,’ Mark grumbled, ‘when you hardly ever see him.’

‘I _do_ love him,’ Benton said weakly.

‘And you want to be just like him.’

Well, it was true that he used to aspire to being a Mountie; but since Benton and his grandparents had moved to Inuvik, and he’d met Mark, his whole life had changed. Even his dreams had transformed. ‘I want to be a hockey player. Like you.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Yes, I do, Mark.’

‘Huh.’ And Mark rolled over, so he was lying face down on the bag, head turned away from his friend.

A promise was obviously called for. A pledge. Benton blurted out, ‘I’ll send you my rookie card, and you can pin it on your wall with all the others.’

‘I’ll have my face on a rookie card before you do, Ben.’

‘No, you won’t.’

‘I bet you five dollars I will.’

Even though Benton disapproved of gambling, he resentfully said, ‘All right.’

‘All right, then,’ Mark said, in easy tones as if he’d won his point.

Benton stared out into the classroom, though he had to admit he wasn’t really seeing anything. For some reason he felt kind of overheated; his face was aflame, and his heart was going a thousand beats per minute… And he felt absolutely awful that his best friend didn’t believe his assertions of loyalty.

After a while, Mark said thoughtfully, ‘You know, Ben, hockey’s been pretty much all I ever wanted. Playing for the Maple Leafs, maybe the Black Hawks… that’s been my dream.’

‘I know,’ Ben murmured.

‘Everything else just belongs on the sidelines.’ Mark had shifted again, onto his side so that he was facing Benton. He looked up, an imploring expression on his face.

Not entirely sure of what Mark wanted, Benton offered, ‘You’ll make it to the NHL, Mark.’ He called his sincerest tones from deep within him. ‘You’re going to be a star.’

‘You think?’

‘I’m good at hockey, too, Mark – good enough to know greatness when I see it.’

‘Greatness?!’ Mark exclaimed, and he fell onto his back, pantomiming hysterics, though Benton knew his compliment meant a great deal to the boy.

They were silent for a while, and Benton returned his full attention to the task at hand.

Then, into the darkness, Mark said, ‘Get down here, Ben. I can’t talk to you all the way up there.’

Obediently, Benton left the binoculars, and sat down cross-legged on his sleeping bag. He’d be able to hear if anyone came for the apples, anyway.

After a long moment, Mark tentatively began, ‘Ben, do you, uh…’ He glanced up at Benton, and then apparently decided on a full confession. ‘Every morning,’ he said in a fraught whisper, ‘every darned morning I wake up with a hard-on. And I mean _hard_. So hard it hurts, eh? And it never _ever_ seems to go away.’ He fell back with his arms flung out to either side, staring up at the ceiling as if he’d been abandoned by God. ‘I had to ask Mom to buy me a new pair of pants, I couldn’t wear my jeans anymore, they’re too tight. Not that I told her why…’

Benton cleared his throat. ‘I do believe it’s a normal physiological reaction at the onset of puberty, Mark. I don’t think it’s anything for you to worry about.’

Mark was staring at him now, yearningly compassionate. ‘You, too, huh?’

Ah. Benton nodded, hoping Mark couldn’t tell that he was blushing.

‘So how long does it go on for? And what on earth do we do about it?’

‘Suffer through it,’ was Benton’s only advice.

‘Do you ever think about… you know. Sex?’

‘Yes,’ Benton whispered, faintly.

‘All the time, huh?’ Mark sighed. ‘But there aren’t many girls here, and none of them are going to look twice at me. Not with you around. And anyway I guess we’re kind of young to be doing that kind of thing…’

‘Yes, Mark.’

‘Do you really think so?’ An imploring tone.

‘Yes, I do. Far too young.’ Sex with girls was complicated by the possible physical results, let alone all the social ramifications, Benton had realized that a long time ago. There were definitely excellent reasons for the legal age of consent, and Benton had no intention of breaking that (or, indeed, any) law.

‘Oh God,’ Mark groaned, ‘I’m hard right now, I’m hard just talking about it… Are you hard, Ben?’

His friend was staring up at the ceiling again, which was just as well because otherwise Benton didn’t think he’d be able to answer. ‘Yes,’ he whispered, trying not to physically betray his discomfort.

‘I haven’t even _kissed_ anyone, and I feel like this – that’s so unfair! It’s gonna _kill_ me.’

Benton ventured, ‘Mark, I think you’re exaggerating…’

‘No, I’m not.’ Mark rolled up onto his side, head propped on one hand, gazing up at Benton very directly. ‘Have you kissed anyone yet? And I don’t mean, like, your family or anything.’

‘No.’

A moment passed as Mark stared at him, somehow measuring him again. ‘Do you want to try?’

Try what? Benton didn’t even understand what Mark meant at first. And then, well, Mark was staring at Benton’s mouth, and leaning up to get closer to him, meeting Benton’s gaze with darting glances, and drawing closer still – and Benton figured it out. He couldn’t move, it was as if he were trapped there, terrified and mesmerized and utterly willing all at once. Mark’s mouth pressed against his, and Benton’s thoughts scrambled, wondering if he should move his lips or not, asking himself whether he even wanted this or not…

And then Mark was moving _his_ lips, and Benton’s were surrendering, opening under the assault, and of _course_ he wanted this. He wanted this more than anything in the whole wide world. Frantic kisses, inexpert and enthralling; Mark’s hand wrapping around Benton’s nape, dragging him closer, and closer, until Benton lost his balance and collapsed in a curled heap against his friend’s chest, and _still_ they were kissing as if their lives depended on it…

It occurred to Benton that he could touch Mark, so he timidly eased his hands around that strong back; arms following to encircle, enfold; and then Benton could press up against Mark, and hold him close, all the while kissing, kissing, kissing until his lips felt bruised.

Mark was keeping Benton firmly in place with that hand at his nape; his other hand began rubbing up and down Benton’s flank; and at last his mouth broke away, though he kept pressing dry kisses all over Benton’s face, while murmuring in his beautiful rough voice, ‘You’re so pretty, Ben, let me, please let me, pretty Benton, let me touch you…’

‘Yes,’ Benton cried out, hardly guessing at what he was consenting to, only knowing that he would let Mark do anything to him. ‘Yes, Mark, touch me.’

And that hand left his flank, crept down to his hip, and then was boldly shaping itself to Benton’s hardness, his erect phallus achingly sensitive despite the layers of denim and flannel.

Benton cried out again, wordless this time, and clung to his friend as if to life itself.

It was over in an instant. Before Benton could gather his thoughts, or even take heed of exactly what he was experiencing, a nova burst within him, and his body his whole being was shuddering in time with his phallus’s pulses… Mark hung onto him, stimulating him, soothing him, murmuring to him.

At last, feeling delightfully enervated, Benton began uncurling; and Mark was easing him back to lie on his sleeping bag, ‘Let me, please, Ben, let me do this, I’ve been wanting to do this.’

‘Yes,’ he managed to reply, and Mark was stretching out on top of him; Benton found the energy to lift his arms around the boy’s back, welcoming him; and then Mark was pressing his own hardness against Benton’s thigh, rubbing himself against Benton despite the barrier of all their clothes… Benton drew Mark down for a hungry kiss – and Mark was hit by his own climax, and he clutched Benton up tight as he thrust harshly against him, mouth breaking away to yell something victorious. And then it was all over.

They lay there quietly for a while, Benton reveling in the feeling of being crushed by Mark’s weight. _This is where I belong_ , Benton thought, fierce and true. _This is where I belong._

‘Oh God, Ben,’ Mark mumbled after a while, his face hidden against Benton’s shoulder. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’

‘Why? Why are you sorry? I’m not.’

‘Well, I just sort of _jumped_ you…’

‘I wanted it,’ Benton declared. And when Mark lifted his head to gaze down at him, Benton repeated, ‘I didn’t know, but I _wanted_ it.’

They kissed, a sweeter kiss to acknowledge their understanding… and then Mark broke away, and tilted his head as if considering something.

‘What?’ Benton asked.

‘Hush. Don’t you hear that?’

Right then, Benton couldn’t care less about anything other than his friend, his… boyfriend (he hoped), but he listened obediently. There was a scampering of paws, a rustling. An ominous munching.

Carefully the two boys disentangled from their embrace, and knelt up to peer through the window at the culprit.

‘It’s a… it’s a raccoon,’ Benton whispered, hardly believing the evidence of his senses. The creature sat perched on the rim of one basket, an apple in its tiny human-like hands, eating fastidiously. Benton couldn’t see the distinctive black mask across its eyes, because it was turned away from him; however, its furry tail was hanging down outside the basket, sporting seven black stripes. ‘But… they aren’t indigenous north of Alberta. This one must be someone’s pet. It’s quite young – when they’re older they become a bit too irascible to make good pets.’

‘I don’t know anyone with a coon for a pet,’ Mark said, ‘and Inuvik’s not so big we wouldn’t know.’

‘Perhaps it ran away, and it’s been foraging for food on its own.’

They stared at the thief some more. Eventually Mark said, ‘So what do we do? You can’t arrest him.’

Benton considered this. What would his father do? ‘I’ll fetch the laboratory cage from the cupboard, and then we’ll capture it.’

‘Huh,’ Mark commented skeptically. ‘And then what?’

‘If we can’t find its owner, I’ll take care of it for the winter. Or at least until I can arrange to have it shipped south. It won’t survive on its own.’

‘Yeah, OK.’

So that’s what they did. The raccoon was too clever to be snuck up on, so there was some pandemonium as the boys chased it around the room a few times. Which was lots of fun, with their shouts and laughter fogging in the cool night air… As the raccoon tried to escape, Benton saw the loose ceiling tiles through which it must have entered, and he made a mental note to secure them properly.

Eventually Mark mesmerized the animal, or confused it, by dancing back and forth in front of it, faking to his left and then to his right. For a long moment, the raccoon couldn’t decide which way to run, and by the time it’d made up its mind, Benton grabbed it from behind. Into the cage it went, along with an apple donated by Mark (he shrugged an apology at Benton), and they left it at the front of the classroom.

And then the two boys retired to the office, both of them abruptly avoiding each other’s gaze. Mark took charge, though. He said, ‘Wait up,’ and he knelt by the sleeping bags, which were both the kind that unzipped and folded open. The zips weren’t compatible, so Mark couldn’t make them into a double bag, but they would serve as a mattress and a blanket.

Mark loosened his boots and kicked them off, drew his sweater off over his head, then got into the makeshift bed. He wasn’t a graceful young man, but there was an alluring certainty and strength in all his movements… ‘Come on, Ben,’ he said.

Benton needed no further encouragement. His boots and sweater joined Mark’s, and then Benton slid in beside him, cooperating when Mark took him into his arms… _This is where I belong_.

It took a little while to warm up after being in the cold classroom, despite the running around; but they spent the time, productively enough, kissing. And then just when a fully-dressed Benton was becoming almost too hot under the sleeping bag, Mark began fumbling with the buttons of Benton’s shirt, and then of his long-johns, pushing the clothes open to expose Benton’s chest. Kisses scattered across his bare skin; even across his nipples, which kind of tickled and electrified him all at once.

Mark drew back a little and began unbuttoning his own shirt, with Benton’s belated help, and then they were cuddling and kissing, and gasping at the sensation of bare flesh pressed against bare flesh…

There was a moment after which everything transcended the simple here and now. Benton’s every sense became heightened, heated; and, paradoxically, he became very narrowly focused on one incredible thing: their love-making. Nothing mattered except for Mark, and what Mark was doing to him. The rest of Inuvik, the Territories, Canada, the world, might not have even existed.

And Mark was murmuring again, ‘Love you, Ben, I love you, you’re so damned pretty. You don’t belong on the sidelines; not for me. You’re the other thing I want, you’re my other dream.’

The words were ambrosia; so rich and sustaining that Benton felt he could live on them and nothing else forever. He was breaking the law, legally he was too young for this, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care because he was in heaven…

‘Let me, please let me.’

‘Anything,’ Benton vowed.

Benton’s jeans were undone, and Mark’s pants; Mark took Benton’s hand in his, and thrust it down to meet Mark’s phallus; and then Mark took hold of Benton’s own hardness.

A crescendo, then, of kissing and hugging, of hands frantically working and bare skin inciting. And then Benton spilled over with a cry, and Mark followed him, and all was golden delicious confusion for a delightful long while.

Afterwards they lay wrapped up together. ‘Did you want that midnight snack?’ Mark asked.

Benton considered this. He was hungry, but right then he felt as if he wouldn’t be able to move if his life depended on it. ‘No. You?’

‘Nah.’

And, hardly even bothering to readjust their clothing, the two boys fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.

♦

Of course they were ravenous in the morning. Benton woke early, as usual, and shook a reluctant Mark awake. They spared time for a quick kiss before falling on the sandwiches and on Benton’s grandmother’s shortbread. Even the shortbread tasted good that morning.

A shared look, Benton glanced at the clock to make sure they had the time, and then Mark fell on Benton once more.

Already they were learning about this, becoming bolder… Mark pushed their clothing open as far as he could, and then lay on Benton, matching hardness against hardness; and he made love to Benton like that, while they kissed. Benton was brave enough to slip his hands into Mark’s pants and thermal underwear, and spread his palms and fingers across those muscular buttocks. Which was enough to finish Mark off… When he regained his balance, Mark finished Benton off with the sure beat of his right hand.

They showered in the boys’ washroom, one after the other, not daring to share the cubicle because time was running out. Benton stared covetously at the expanse of soapy male flesh, wondering when he’d get the chance to have all of Mark naked against all of Benton… And Mark was obviously wanting the same thing. Oh, this was almost _too_ magnificent.

But soon Miss Ellis was arriving. Benton finished lacing his boots, and stood, needing to explain to her about the raccoon. He made it as far as the doorway, and paused for one last hungry glance back at his boyfriend.

‘Go on,’ Mark said. ‘I’ll catch up with you, eh?’

‘Yes.’ Benton wanted to say (as he hadn’t during the night) _I love you_ , but the school’s front door was being unlocked, and Mark was dealing with his clothes, and the moment was… somehow all wrong. ‘Yes,’ Benton whispered, before turning away.

♦

When Benton got home that evening, his rolled-up sleeping bag in one hand and a caged raccoon in the other, he found his grandparents were packing up their few worldly possessions. Apparently it was time for the library to move on.

‘Oh, no,’ he brokenly protested.

His grandfather glanced at him with a measure of sympathy; but Benton’s grandmother drew herself up, five-foot-nothing of ire. ‘I beg your pardon, young man?’

After a moment Benton managed to locate his courage, and he whispered, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to leave Inuvik.’

‘Wanting and needing are two different things,’ he was tartly informed.

‘Ma’am, I _need_ to stay here in Inuvik…’

She stared directly up at him. ‘Ah, so not only have you become disobedient, but insolent as well.’ A sharp breath, and then she delivered her verdict. ‘I’m not going to ask where you were last night, or what you thought you were doing –’

Benton colored up, he couldn’t help it, though surely no one knew more than half of the matter.

‘– Miss Ellis informed us you were at the school, capturing wild animals, and no doubt not getting enough sleep. She’s talked to Mark’s parents, too.’

‘But, ma’am –’

‘Mark Smithbauer is a bad influence on you.’

‘But, ma’am, it was _my_ idea, not Mark’s. I was on a stake-out, just like Dad would have done.’

‘Your father would not have resorted to subterfuge in order to fulfil his responsibilities. You lied to us, Benton, when you told us you were staying at Mark’s.’

Guilty as charged. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m sorry, sir.’

His grandfather nodded acceptance of his apology, and his grandmother softened a tad. ‘Don’t you understand, Benton? If any endeavor requires you to tell a lie, then no matter how good the matter seems, it must be wrong.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Benton murmured, hanging his head in a suitable gesture of remorse. Then he couldn’t prevent himself pleading, ‘But this isn’t enough of a reason to move away, surely. I’m midway through the term.’

His grandmother had gone back to the packing. ‘You’re a good student; your grades won’t suffer. I told Miss Ellis you won’t be returning; you can stay home tomorrow and help me pack while your grandfather collects the last of the library books.’

Benton almost moaned in despair. He’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t run away, and there seemed to be no other course of action available to him. ‘Please,’ Benton tried, his voice breaking again. ‘Mark’s the best friend I’ve had in years.’

‘It’s not the act of a best friend to lead you astray.’

‘But he didn’t…’

She paused to stare across the room at him with those sharp eyes of hers. ‘You’ve never lied to us before. Have you?’

What could he say? He had to admit, ‘No.’ He added, ‘But it wasn’t Mark’s fault.’

‘We’ve already written to your father,’ his grandmother commented.

Benton’s arguments were of no use. The Fraser family was moving.

Once he truly realized that, a numb moment dragged by. Then, in a last act of rebellion, Benton dropped what he was carrying, and dashed out the front door.

♦

Mark wouldn’t meet his gaze. Everything had changed. Everything. It was bewildering how fast and how radically something so important could change…

Benton and Mark were standing on the front steps of the Smithbauer house, with three feet of icy night air between them. It seemed an unbridgeable chasm. Searching for something to say, Benton offered, ‘I’m sorry I got you into trouble.’

‘That’s OK,’ Mark said in that beautiful voice of his.

Wondering at his friend’s utter embarrassment, Benton tentatively asked, ‘You don’t think they’ve guessed, do you? About you and me?’

Mark turned away, unable to even face him now. Benton’s heart broke. ‘Nah,’ Mark replied.

‘Oh. That’s good.’ Benton stared at his boots, wondering how to make this right between them. ‘So, I wanted to say goodbye. A proper goodbye. We’ll be leaving on Thursday. But I was thinking, once we’re settled again, I could write to you. I mean, we could write to each other. Letters are better than nothing, Mark, and maybe one day…’

Benton trailed off as Mark turned towards him again, an imploring look on his face. ‘I can’t write letters,’ Mark pleaded. ‘I can hardly write my school assignments, eh? The only thing I’ve ever known about is hockey –’

‘You knew about _me_ ,’ Benton whispered, though he was beginning to realize it was hopeless.

‘No, it was too good to be true. You and me was never going to happen. You go on, Ben, pretty Ben, and you be a Mountie like your damned father, you be a good guy. You don’t need hockey, and you sure as hell don’t need me.’

‘Yes, I do.’ Tears were welling, and if they fell they’d become icicles. ‘I _do_ need you.’

But Mark shook his head, and then turned towards the front door as if wanting to go in.

Benton swallowed past the lump in his throat. ‘Promise to send me your rookie card, Mark? I’ll owe you five dollars.’

A vastly uncomfortable shrug was the only reply.

‘Goodbye, Mark.’

And at last Mark met his gaze, just for a moment. ‘Goodbye, Ben.’ And he whispered one last confession, ‘This is killing me,’ before he wrenched the door open and fled inside.

Benton walked home alone, frozen to his very soul.

♦

Benton tried to find the good in the situation, he tried to work out what the lesson was. As his grandmother said, every cloud has a silver lining. But it was difficult. He’d learned about how very important love was to him, that was one thing. And he’d discovered that he was as likely to find that love with a boy as with a girl. He’d learned some more about the nature of courage, and what a lack of it might deprive a person of. And, for one fleeting night, Benton had experienced a physical pleasure he’d barely even dreamed of before. But that was about it.

Oh, and he could derive one piece of comfort from leaving Inuvik: despite the raccoon’s thievery, the class wouldn’t run short of apples; in fact, with him gone, they’d end up with a surplus by the end of the season.

As for Mark Smithbauer… Once the Frasers had settled again, Benton wrote a letter to his friend, his love. But he never felt surprised as the months passed with no reply. Instead, Benton continued to follow hockey with all the fervor Mark had awoken in him, and as the years went by he paid great attention to the rookie cards… until one day he spied Mark’s face, beautifully familiar despite the long hair and shaggy moustache.

Benton was overjoyed, for at least one of Mark’s dreams had finally come true.

♦


End file.
